War
by embracetheweird16
Summary: "The thing about pain is that it demands to be felt." (MarcelxBonniexKlaus)


Read. Relish. Review.

(Oneshot)

BonniexMarcel

BonniexKlaus.

* * *

Bonnie closed her eyes and rubbed her face against the soft cotton sheets of her lover's bed. Her body was sore of good loving, her soul content of the delightful mix of lust and infatuation. When was the last time she had slept in late? Or woken up fully satisfied with where she was in her life? This time was long ago, when she was a happy shallow cheerleader and her grandmother was alive. Yes, this was sometime ago.

Bonnie gasps at the soft touch of finger tips on her hip bone, dragging across her skin until it met her rib cage then the valley of her breasts; straight to her neck. She keeps her eyes closed, feeling that if she opened them she mightn't feel the touch just right, the sensation of his hands is addictive but she'd be damned if she ever let the smug bastard know that.

"Time to wake up, Bon." She knows that, his touches were meant for that but she'd rather not open her eyes just yet. She'd like to stay in bed—in his arms for a while.

"No." He chuckles and she pictures that amazing smile of his that made her say yes to him in the first place, his chocolate eyes crinkling at her. Marcel was a beautiful man and he was all hers. There's another ministration to get her up but instead it just makes her moan and want to stay with him longer. By now, she'd think he'd know what his mouth does to her body.

A tongue passes over her earlobe–she bites her lower lip, hand on his muscled chest. She knows what her touches does to him. Her eyes flutter open.

"C'mon guys! We have a meeting with the witches in twenty minutes!" Complains the gay vampire, having grown tired of hearing them upstairs. He wants to go, he wants to see his own love–they're holding him back.

"I'm going to kill him." Grumbled the vampire, tentatively removing his lips from her body.

Bonnie shakes her head and smiles. "Davina wouldn't like that."

At the mention of the adoptive daughter, Marcel grumbles again, coming off the bed—exposing the glorious backside to her. She takes a moment to appreciate the view.

"My eyes are up here." He chides, looking back at her body tangled in the dirty white sheets. Bonnie licked her lips and hummed a response.

"I know."

Soon they're both getting dressed, procrastinating with quick kisses and the occasional smack of the behind. (It's worst when they shower, it's safe to say they're late for the meeting with the witches). They're in that wonderful honeymoon phase where they just can't get enough of each other, where she needs him all the time and he needs her too. The thing is they've been together for a year, still very in love and the phase hadn't finished yet. It's in elation that she tell herself that it might just not end.

As the couple walks down the stairs, they see Josh laying down on her favorite couch flipping through one of her Vanity Fair magazines. He doesn't look up at them before he speaks. "You know you guys are worst than horny teenagers."

"We're in our house, I'll make love to my wife anytime I want." There was a time in her life she thought she'd never be called anyone's wife, so every time he utters the word her stomach flips. Bonnie smiles at Josh before going towards the kitchen, she pours herself a cup of coffee and grabs an apple. Usually she prefers tea but since they're meeting the witches she needs caffeine and probably even some whiskey.

"You guys are still nasty." Josh mumbled.

Bonnie shakes her head. "I'm sure if we spend an hour with you and wolf-boy you'd give us an eternity of therapy. P.S, the next time he calls you for dirty talk make sure I'm not around."

It was a rare occasion that she saw a vampire blush and it never stopped to amuse her. "Shut up, Bonnie."

"Don't tell my wife shut up." Marcel quips, bent over in the freezer, looking for a back up blood bag since they were running late. Bonnie can't help be smack his backside that looks oh so appealing in the denim jeans.

"Ignoring that–" Josh says about the butt slap which is just further proof if what he said earlier; they're horny teenagers."You're just jealous because you can't tell her to shut up."

"Besides the point." He says slamming the freezer shut, and offers one to Josh, who politely declines. Marcel takes a mouthful of the blood while his wife sips her coffee. The duo are domesticated in a delightfully cute way. It's almost nauseating.

* * *

Eventually, they do make it to the French Quarter, with Josh still complaining in the background. Marcel spends most of the time telling him to shut up. Bonnie's concentrating on not spilling any of the coffee in her mug (since, thanks to Josh hurrying them up, she didn't get to finish it), trying to down the caffeine before she has to face them.

The moment Bonnie sets foot on the cemetery ground she gets a bad feeling. (The witches of this city often incur this feeling within her). She is tempted to make a quick escape in her new boots, but it happens to be a favored pair so she doesn't—not just yet anyway. Instead, regrettably, she take Marcel's arm and let him walk her into the grounds.

She should have felt the unnatural shift of the ground and weight of the dark spell the moment she entered (but, of course, she hadn't).

It was a trap.

Bonnie is slow to attack (her favorite mug is shattered on the ground, the dark brown coffee running through the green blades of grass), she chants a spell but no matter her powerful she is no match for an entire coven of witches.

They take Josh first, before she or Marcel can so much as take a breathe, a spell that rips your heart from your chest with a very sentences.

Then—they try Marcel but she still manages to defend against him, protects him while she can (at her own expense all the while, internal bleeding bringing her a slow death). Bonnie is a goddess when she wields magic, becoming Isis divine (that's what her husband tells her anyway).

It's been a while since she has tapped into anything dark, but since they are in a cemetery, she does a spell that an old New Orleans witch thought her.

With her arms extended and blood at her fingers, dripping on the ground with her shattered mug. She chants a spell of necromancy.

It partially tears at her soul and sanity but they rose (all at once).

The witches have no choice but to fall back and as they go, she falls back into the arms of her lover.

In a place between love, insanity and death.

Through blurry vision she sees Josh, his corpse unlike the usual vampire. He does not look vampire dead, Bonnie is however too weak to tell her husband this who packs the body in the back. Could he not see it too?

From the look in his brown eyes, it doesn't seem that way.

* * *

"He was just a kid." Marcel mutters from the living room, head in his hands and whiskey by his side. Bonnie is on the kitchen counter, sitting with her legs crossed and grimwoire in her hand. She wonders how she'll tell Adien that his boyfriend has died or how she'll tell Davina one of her only friends has been brought down her own coven.

Taking comfort in the fact that Marcel is alive, that her husband is with her, Bonnie plots the destruction of the witches of the French Quarter. (Their complete annihilation)

"Marcel," she starts turning away from him to get more coffee, from on of his mugs. "At least we have each other." That line is so cliche it hurts her teeth and itches her tongue. "We'll destroy those witches, make them pay for what they did to—"

He doesn't interrupt her on purpose, the scream that echoes from him is painful and her skin crawls. Swiftly she gets on her feet and is at his side, her warrior is crippled in pain of the floor.

"Marcel!"

He probably couldn't hear her, but she still screams, wrapping herself around his body. The witches have done something, they've done something that will make them all suffer.

They've killed the lover of a Bennett witch and protégée of Niklaus Mikealson.

There would be hell to pay.

* * *

He thinks it's a joke at first, when she tell him over the phone.

"I haven't got times for your games witch." The original hybrid says before hanging up the phone.

So Bonnie gets into her car, leaving the corpse of her husband on the living room floor, Josh's body still in the backseat as she drives. She doesn't cry, having lost so many already, everyone she loved had a expiration date on them it would seem. Instead she laughs.

And laughs until she's parked outside of Klaus' home. It isn't his brother who opens the door for once, but the king himself.

Bonnie smiles sadly and opens her mouth to tell him the news. Instead she throws herself in his arms and cry, while laughing. Making an odd wet heave against his chest, surprisingly he doesn't throw her off, instead he rubs her back and smoothens her hair.

He understands.

He knows.

And he too makes a promise—the witches must all burn.

They'd made a mistake by killing his adoptive son/protégée.

They'd unleashed a threat more powerful and cruel than himself, the Bennett witch who was now in need of comfort and a shoulder; and whom was now in his care.

"We'll make them pay."

And they do.


End file.
